


Midnight mission

by Touchefrappe



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Choking, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Pussy Spanking, Sexual Situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Touchefrappe/pseuds/Touchefrappe
Summary: You're determined.





	Midnight mission

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr. follow me @touchefrappe. thought i'd post on this site and see how it goes. been having major writers block. maybe this site will motivate me. hope you enjoy. leave a kudo and a comment hoe.

What a sight you are: legs spread wide, eyes clenched shut, skin flushed in arousal, breasts heaving over the neckline of your camisole, left hand groping the meat of your inner thigh whilst the right glides over the folds of your naked pussy, soul leaving your body in small mumblings and pathetic whimpers, sheets wrinkling beneath your twitching body, moonlight bathing you in a luminous glow.

Had he been awake he would surely appreciate the view, but you do not have the heart to wake him, so you take to the soft pulsing of your clit of your own accord. You try to keep quiet as best as you can out of respect for his sleep, though it is hard to stifle the pleadings for his person with the waves of erotic sensation rolling along your shores.

Muffled friction echoes through the room as he suddenly shifts to his side, his right hand finding solace beneath his pillow as his left rests upon your contracting belly. It seems your attempt at quietude is sadly in vain. He pulls his body closer to your own and burrows his nose into the side of your sweaty neck. A deep sigh leaves his nostrils, stimulating your sensitive skin and awakening gooseflesh across your body.The soft plump of his lips graze your neck as he softly speaks, the vibrations of his tone rumbling your already crumbling core.

“Watcha doin’, baby girl?”

His voice is deep and dripping with husk and sleep, palm drawing lazy circles on your lower belly, your frenzied hand bumping into his own. Your top teeth shackle your bottom lip, a desperate whimper your only response. He counters with a deep chuckle, his hooded eyes homing in on your busy right hand. He hums in understanding and pecks your perspiring neck before coming up to your ear, the heat of his breath bewitching you to rub faster and harder.

“You playin’ with your pussy?” His voice rings with amusement and playfulness, but his question goes unanswered. He abandons your belly to force your face to him, your eyes opening half lidded and pupils blown wide with arousal. His eyelashes flutter at the sight of your debauchery, his member heavy and thick awakening and awaiting the comforts of your tight sobbing hole. His lips brush against your own as he speaks again, an authoritative and inquiring tone mocking your muteness, his eyes boring into your soul.

“Answer daddy,” he commands, “You playin’ with your pussy, pretty girl?”

Your eyes squint in tortured pleasure, eyebrows forward and tears brimming the horizon of your eyes. Your head nods fast and dumb, a whimper passing your precious lips. He cannot help but indulge himself at the sight of his pretty baby and barricades your thigh beneath his own to rut against your vibrating body. His fingers snake through the vines of your scalp and breathes in your tongue like a fish gulping water, soft lips locking onto your own, pins shifting along the other to partake a skeleton key. His hand cannot stay idle within your hair so they slither down to your neck, where his fingers hug the sticky flesh. The heat of his paw sears into your skin and travels through your body like a path of hot lava collecting at your clit.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, baby,” he breaths into your mouth, his words shoving down your throat like his cock so often does. “You’re making daddy hard.” Your hole clenches at his lullaby, a bold reminder of how empty you actually are. Your middle finger abandons your clit to find solace in the confines of your heat, curling and stroking the muscles within you as your palm caters to the swollen gateway of your euphoria.

His eyes flee from your own to partake in the glory of your contorting body: nipples hard and begging for attention, skin flushed and sweaty, left hand groping the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. His dark orbs take special notice to the way your hand smears across your pining clit, his fingers constricting from the sight, his thumb petting the protruding vein of your neck.

“I know you like it when daddy chokes you,” he hums, grabbing hold of your hair with his right hand to force your ear to his mouth. “But can daddy play with your pussy, now?” He nuzzles his head into the side of your face, coaxing you to pass the baton over to him. An airy sigh leaves your mouth as you draw out a few more tantalizing swivels as your motion gradually dissipates into stillness.

Your voice hushed and whiny, you finally speak. “Yes. Please play with me, daddy.”

The heat once seeping into your left side evaporates into the air, his heavy body soon finding purchase between your warm thighs.

“Hmm,” he vibrates, left cheek nuzzling into the tender flesh of your inner thigh. His eyes glaze over at the sight of your wet pussy—leaking hole and twitching clit. His long fingers trace over the shape of your lower lips, index finger wagging across your clit every so often. Your hips buck at the contact, a stuttered and troubled breath leaving your lips. He looks up from the noise and observes your erotic expression: eyes half lidded, smoldering and enraptured, lips plump and pink, begging to be swallowed whole, neck flushed and sweaty, the imprint of his hand adorning your skin—his top teeth bite back a devilish grin.

“It feels good, pretty girl?” 

You hum pathetically, hand grabbing hold of his inky black hair. He focuses back down to your molten opening, crowding in on your left inner thigh to place a chaste kiss to your lower lips.

“Your pussy is so pretty, baby,” he mumbles, teasingly flicking his tongue over your clit. “So, wet,” he licks, “and warm,” he licks again. Nose burrowing into your warmth he partakes an indulgent inhale, a pleasured moan pushing back against weeping center. “Daddy loves this pussy so much,” he whispers.

You then find his face to hover above your own, his large body casting a shadow over your smaller frame. He grabs hold of both your ankles and pushes them to rest at each side of your head, instructions to hold them yourself following shortly after. 

His head dips down in a mocking peck, your neck craning to follow his lead as his head retreats. He chuckles at your desperation before speaking again, the fingers of his left hand tightening the back of your head with a fist, his tongue drawing a long stripe along his other. Mesmerized by the wet muscle that often finds purchase between your thighs, liquid heat pools down to your lower belly, hips wagging to reach your pussy’s semblance of relief. 

“You’re such a naught girl,” he drawls, body making way for his hand as it travels down the expanse of your body, finding itself hovering your aching pussy, stalling. And then your body jolts, the smack of your wet pussy resounding throughout the room. He does it again, heavy hand slapping against the surface of your vulva, a feminine yelp bulldozing through the air as your hips chase his retreating hand. His eyes do not stray from your own, a concentrated frown marring his face as his hand slaps your pussy in quick succession, pausing to rapidly smear over your clit in random followings. “That feel good, baby girl? You like it when daddy slaps your pussy?”

Just as before, you are left unable to speak, head drooping back as drool leaks from the corners of your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your hips lift of their own accord to meet the insistent spanking, intangible babble coaxing him to breathe back life into your slack-jawed mouth. “You want my finger, baby,” he taunts into your mouth, eyebrows clenching as he watches you enter the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. “You want daddy to fill you up nice and good?”

Middle finger long and thick enters your swallowing tightness, mimicking the greedy strokes of his cock, palm grinding and bouncing against your engorged clit.

“Is my pretty baby close? Is she gonna cum all over my finger and make a mess?”

You nod dumbly, eyes clenched shut, the brink of your orgasm teetering over the edge of a cliff. The sudden immobility of his finger lures his eyes down to his swallowed hand, drawing him to oscillate his palm over the whole of your pussy, your cries of catharsis spouting from your lips and a long drawn out fuck leaving his. Your hips shimmy and rut and buck against his hand, your pussy drawing up all the tension and heat from the atmosphere, muscles contracting and jaw clenching as liquid love eases from your salivating entrance.

“Fuck,” he drawls, voice muffled by your neck as he makes home there, hand lazily grinding your pussy, drawing out every ounce of your orgasm he could. The tension in your body slowly begins to loosen, your limbs gradually relaxing into the mattress as the last bits of your pleasure vibrate through your body, fingers releasing your ankles from their vice grip, legs circling around his muscled hips. He unsheathes his finger from your heat and draws his cum soaked finger into his mouth, humming delightfully at the bitter taste. “Does my baby feel better now?”

You could hardly keep your eyes open let alone muster a response, though you manage to hum out a yes and wrap your arms around his back, pulling him down to fall onto your body. He relaxes onto you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he hugs your head, resting his own down next to yours. Neglected and insistent his bulge crowds your still pulsing pussy and your hips beckoned by his cock swivel to revel in the pressure against your clit.

“Johnny, you’re hard,” you sleepily mumble.

He chuckles, vibrations jostling your still tingling body. “Well duh.”

“Let me take care of it for you,” you counter, eyes and voice drifting shut to the soft lullaby of your heartbeat.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty girl,” he insists, peppering your cheek in lazy kisses before his lips move to your ear. “Tomorrow you can take care of daddy.”

© TOUCHEFRAPPE


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